


The Butterfly

by kindaeccentric



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Inspired by Crimson Peak (2015), M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28531161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindaeccentric/pseuds/kindaeccentric
Summary: A butterfly preserved in resin and musings about the nature of love.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	The Butterfly

He enjoyed that moment. Hand-woven blue carpet under his feet, beneath it wooden floor. His thighs pressed into softened linen sheets, firm mattress, solid walnut bedframe. Hannibal was sitting naked on the edge of the bed and listening to the sound of water running in the bathroom while playing with half of a sphere made of clear resin with a monarch butterfly preserved inside. The smooth surface pleasant to touch, the weight a reminder of luxury. There were more like this one, with moths and other insects on the shelf by the writing desk, in the other corner of the big bedroom. A remarkable collection he inspected closely earlier.

Time was passing slower in the universe that this half alien apartment encompassed. To not know what objects sit in the cabinets, but to be able to recall the shape, taste, smell and feeling of every body part of your lover was a delightful dichotomy.

Soon the splashing coming from the shower stopped, and a man in a black silk dressing gown embroidered with crimson flowers clinging to his still wet body came to sit next to him with remarkable grace.

‘Did he fall asleep?’ asked the man in black silk.

Hannibal looked over his shoulder at the pale back of a figure laying beside them. It was another man, with curly brown hair. Hannibal reached out to grab his shoulder and gently pulled to force him to face them. There was no cooperation from the body, but it tilted and fell flat onto the pillows, face towards them. Under the long eyelashes the sad, grey eyes were unmoving, empty.

‘I think we broke him,’ said Hannibal, almost cheerfully, with a wicked smile, and returned to playing with the paperweight while observing his lover closely.

Will, with his own wet hair slicked back, felt a shiver going down his spine.

Hannibal found the guy on accident. He didn’t plan on doing anything at first, but talked to him out of the special kind of curiosity that drives every predatory animal. The man looked a lot like Will. He had the same hair, the same nose and jaw, different eyes. He invited Hannibal to his apartment mere hours after first meeting him. Silly bunny. He got ridiculously excited at the prospect of spending a night with a clone of himself. For Will it was a surprise.

‘He had nice eyes...’

‘Too nice, they looked like glass. Everything about him was too glossy. He had no physical flaws, was barely even a person. I prefer to see the cracks.’

Will snuggled in to Hannibal, kissed his neck, then rested his chin on his shoulder and embraced him to run fingers through his hair. This kind of intimacy always felt as if he was treating a tiger like a house cat, but the warmth of the fur was too inviting.

‘When did he die?’

‘I think I accidentally suffocated him the moment you kissed me when he was between us.’

‘Accidentally?’ Will chuckled, without humor. ‘I thought you wouldn’t lie to me any more.’

Will’s fingers tangled into his partner’s hair, squeezed into a fist and pulled causing Hannibal a short jolt of pain. He tilted his head back, smiled and Will crawled into his lap making him turn all his attention towards him and stop fiddling with the resin hemisphere.

Hannibal stayed quiet for a moment, giving Will time to really taste the question in his mouth, forcing him to say it out loud.

‘Did you want to kill me like you killed him?’

Will’s hands gently wrapped themselves around Hannibal’s throat. An image of Abigail with her throat slashed open and blood covering his hands flashed in his mind. He squeezed, just a little.

‘Choking is your fantasy, not mine, my boy.’

‘Did it still bring you pleasure?’

He knew the answer, but wanted to hear his lover’s voice.

‘Yes.’

Will launched himself at him, practically smashed their lips together. He wanted it to hurt, and it hurt them both, but after initial pain he let the kiss become softer, which was perhaps more perverse. The kiss they shared was deep and slow, languid, during which Will took the hemisphere from Hannibal’s hand and lifted it up to his face to examine the object as soon as their lips parted.

‘Why is this so interesting?’

‘Most butterflies become an easy target for predators. But this one protects itself by tasting too foul to be a desirable prey.’

‘I guess it doesn’t stop predators from trying to eat them anyway.’

‘Probably, but there is no pleasure for them in it. The predators learn to never try again. It reminds me of you.’

‘I don’t taste foul.’

Will said it in a real displeased tone and with complete certainty. Hannibal suddenly had an urge to sink his teeth into him, but instead just put his hands on his thighs and gently caressed them.

‘I agree, I don’t think you do, but there is still a lot of similarities. Look at it, all butterflies seem so fragile, but the colors, orange and black...’

‘Like tiger stripes.’

‘This striking beauty draws attention, but turns into a warning sign. It tells the world ‘I won’t go down gently, you will regret trying to swallow me.’

Will contemplated that for a moment in silence until he looked at the body of a man still there with them. When eating the monarch becomes tempting, you have to find another way to sate your hunger to save yourself from pain. Something similar, something tasty. He didn’t say what was on his mind, but he didn’t have to.

‘It’s the things we do for love.’

Will got off Hannibal’s lap and back onto the bed, this time moving with less grace, his dressing gown coming undone, tastefully dishevelled, exposing his naked body. Reminded Hannibal of erotic Japanese woodblock prints.

Will placed the butterfly in resin between him and the dead man on the sheets and reached to caress his cheek. It was still warm.

‘You will eat his heart', he said, a demand more than stating a fact.

Hannibal nodded in submission.


End file.
